Friday, 28 July 2017

I had been planning to make a post on this recipe that I have so fallen in love with. It so happened that Rinku, whose recipe this is, had once posted this on FB. I asked for the recipe and she promptly shared it.
Rinku is behind the wonderful blog The Spice Chronicles and the author of several cookbooks too.

It is one lovely recipe.
The only change I made was use only around 250 gms of chicken as I was cooking just for myself.
And I loved that idea of searing the chicken.
I added a pinch of sugar because the yogurt that I had was a little sour. So the sugar was to balance the taste.
Since
there was no mention of turmeric in the recipe, I did not add any. The
gravy had a beautiful colour and that fragrance is to die for!

While I do make a Doi morich chicken, Rinku's version is completely
different. This has Punjabi flavours will go very well with parathas or thick rotis or naans too.
I had a batch of the Punjabi garam masala that I had picked up in Amritsar ... so used that.
This is a great dinner dish during the monsoons or in winter.

My whole house was redolent with the aroma of this chicken curry.
A beautiful chicken curry as this deserved an equally beautiful companion. So I went ahead and made myself some fragrant mishti polautoo.
My Sunday was made!!

Saturday, 22 July 2017

Too many people all around. Too much of noise. Too many talking together. Too much of laughter. Too much of cooking going on.
Complaints throng my head. I look around for a little solitude. And do not find any.
Voices float all around me ... someone calling out, someone laughing out, children shrieking as they play, family greeting the just arrived ones with much embracing, smiles, laughter and jokes.
House helps hurrying all around, trying to keep pace with the orders given.
There is an air of festivity all around.

I look on from the terrace on the third floor of our house. And finally turn away in disgust.
I am angry.
I do not understand this casual air around. This air of happiness spilling forth amongst people who have come to our house. I do not understand this feel of vacation among them.
I am so angry that I spend all my time in the little room on the terrace.

Ma, on the other hand is more welcoming. She is all around ... giving orders, looking into the guests' comfort, assigning rooms, everything.
I do not help. I do not want to be a part of any of this. Given a choice, I would happily be back in my home miles away; would
give anything to avoid this time here every year henceforth.

I know I am being unreasonable. I know everyone is trying to lighten the air, ignoring the real, morbid reason why they are here. But I can't help it.
I miss Bapi.
I look around and miss him all the more.
Bapi loved having people over ... be it relatives or friends or unkown guests.
When relatives dropped in for a day, he would arrange for the kitchen to be filled with all kinds of fish and meat and vegetables. He remembered each one's favourite and made sure it was there on the plate.
A variety of mangoes during summer, Ilish from Kolaghat during the rains, the best mutton and prawns, ... you just have to name it. And it is there.
He did not talk much himself but loved to have people, especially our huge family, around him.
Our house in the little hilly town, where Bapi, Ma and I stayed becuse of the proximity to Bapi's industry/factory, came alive, resonated with laughter and loud, boisterous talking whenever the family and Dadu and Thamma dropped down to visit or spend a day.

And now, when everybody is here, I look around but can't find Bapi. And feel angry all the more. I just want some quiet around me. And my Bapi. And his voice, calling out to me.

Back in Pune, I often cook Bapi's favourite dishes, pretending he has asked me to. And this fish head curry is one of them.
In Bengali, it is called the Macher matha diye chanchra, and usually has vegetables added to it.
Even the Odia version has vegetables most of the time. But this one is different.
This one is a replica of the chencheda from a restaurant ... one that Bapi took solace in when it was a pure veg day at home. Since Bapi could never eat a pure vegetarian meal, and had to have a little fish on his plate, he would arrange for some of this chencheda to be delivered home and had his lunch with this on the side. I too loved this chencheda , but it was way too spicy for me then.

All I remember is the overwhelming flavour of garlic and the reddish oil floating. There would be very small bits of potatoes, almost invisible. But the flavours of the fish head and garlic would be intact. At times, I could see a small piece of the tej pata, a little green cardamom and some cinnamon at other times.

It has been so long since I tasted it last that I do not remember almost anything about it. Except that it tasted heaven;y. And Bapi loved it.
With the dominance of garlic, so common in Odiya food, this fish head chencheda stays on as one of my favourite dishes.

Monday, 10 July 2017

It is quiet all around. Except for the birds ... flying and chirping and singing busily. The parrots are going crazy, screeching and playing around in the trees. There is a particularly large group living here and are the noisiest ones around.
It is a delight to watch them everyday and especially when it rains. ( I recently shared a video on Instagram of them bathing in a sudden shower. )
The sun has just come up from behind the little hillock in the east and I can see the brightness all around on the trees and their shining leaves ... but not the sun, not yet, as I am on my balcony in the west.
It is a gorgeous morning and still cold. And breezy too.
The rains are nowhere in sight but there are clouds, lazily passing by ... large puffs of white. An occasional dark one does pass by too, but it is too small to dim the brightness all around.
I take a sip of my Darjeeling tea. The breeze is strong and lulls the swing a little. Good ... since I did not want to move an inch.
Reclining on the swing, my feet to not reach the ground.
So I am grateful for the strong breeze.

A bulbul darts in and sits on the terracotta water bowl. I stay still.
Ever alert, it jumps up and down a little, looks this way and that quickly and jumps into the water.
Splashes around, gives a few quick dips and jumps up on to the rim again, shakes all over to throw away the excess water and is gone. Just like that ... in the blink of an eye.
I finally relax and move to wipe the water droplets on my arm.

It is a gorgeous morning.
I take another sip ... the steam is still coming out of the cup and curls upwards.
I am tempted to go back inside and get my half read book. I have just got my hands on Amish's Sita, finally, and am hooked to it ... just like I am to the rest of his books.
But I don't.
I love my time with myself and nature in the mornings and decide not to let anything else come in between. I can read later.
After all, the rains will start eventually. And I won't get to sit outside this way for sometime.

I will be away, at home.
Where it rains like all hell has broken loose. With thunder and lightening. With huge storm winds.
Where you see the sky turn ominously red, in the nights and know that it is going to pour soon. Pour incessantly; ceaselessly.
Where I will have to go back again and again, at this time of the year, when I rather would not.
When I would rather hide, burrow myself deep somewhere, or get lost somewhere where painful memories cannot reach me.
When I will have to relive those moments of agonising helplessness, relentless yet futile hope and the pain of seeing my father sink slowly into oblivion.
Where I will be reminded and mocked by life about the amount of time that has gone by, without him around me. And I can do nothing about it.
Where I will have to stay in those rooms and see him in every nook and corner of his beloved house.
Where I can see all his things around but not him.
Where my heart will burst with pain every single moment and yet I will be alive, with his memories and his absence.

The rains, that I had loved so much once upon a time, bring only pain to me now.

I have been trying to focus and bring myself to write a post before I leave, but the days are pure mayhem right now. The heart is heavy and yet, there are preparations to be made. I have been cooking in bulk and freezing. Then I need to pack too.
And to cap it all perfectly, we are having guests, relatives we cannot ignore.
So even a minute of a breather is welcome right now, but a far dream.

I will leave you with this thepla that makes for a filling breakfast as well as a dinner too.
I have made this mooli / radish, you can use any vegetable of your choice too.
A thepla is different from a stuffed paratha ... it has the vegetables kneaded in with the flours.
I say flours because I often add different kind of flours ... jowar, makka/maize, rice or a little besan. While the nutritional value does go up, the mutigrain flours add some extra flavours too.

Monday, 26 June 2017

I am on a serious mission these days. A mission of doing nothing.
Yes, doing nothing. And that means doing nothing at all.
Call it a strike; call it a rebellion .... call it anything you want to. But that is the truth and the whole truth.
I do not remember exactly when it happened ... but something inside me has snapped. The last I remember is cooking up a storm ... two huge degchis of biryani ... yummy, fragrant, spicy yet non greasy biryani .... one chicken and one paneer ... for guests and ourselves on Sunday.
If you are following me in Instagram or on Facebook, you must have seen the photographs there.

Spent the whole day sweating it out in the kitchen ... and loved every moment of it. Enjoyed through the latter half of the day ... watched the match .... felt totally disappointed at what our team was doling out and left it halfway to go out and have waffles ... and all in all had a good day.
And the very next day, something broke inside me. And I just did not feel like getting up and doing any chores.
At all.
At first I thought it might just be the 'start of another week' blues. But no, it worsened as the days went by and today, we are bang in the middle of the week and I am still not moving.
B is indulging .... we went out for dinner on Monday but at other times he has been cooking.
Let me see how long this goes on.

I think I need a break; a trip. Seriously.
And all those photos of road trips or overseas trips on fb and insta are not helping too.
Social media has its own pressures ... that I can say.
So when the weather in Pune has turned so unbelievably beautiful and the view and the breeze on my balcony is to happily die for, I ignore it like a moron and long for a drive out into the unknown.

Yes, I am a moron after all, I guess.
Like, I have not done anything all this morning except to wallow in morbidity and letting Jagjit singh croon and pull me all the more down into the dark.
Like I have not made a single post here since the last one. And neither am I clicking any photos too. Just the ones that are offhandedly clicked on my iphone and posted on insta.
I'm giving in to social media, finally.

So, pulled myself up and without moving an inch from my settled position in my den and post this beautiful plateful of breakfast before it languishes any more in my 'to post' folder.

I often soak rice + dal and make a batter and store it. And never have to worry about breakfast most days of the week.
Sometimes I up the amount of the dal or soak mixed dals for a protein rich yet light meal.
While this kind of breakfast is very common in my house ... check out the Chakuli pitha or the soru chakli pithe and others, I have not done a post just for the lack of time needed to click proper photographs.
I do post photos on my page on facebook though ... and now on instagram too.
If you follow me there, you are more updated with my cooking, I would say.

To make this light yet very filling breakfast, all the prep work you need is to keep the batter ready. And maybe have some boiled potatoes in the fridge too.
This aloo ki bhaji is usually made for the masala dosa, but it goes perfectly well with the Adai too ... so do try to pair them. I make it slightly on the sweeter side ... the kind that the Udipi restaurants serve with puris too as puri bhaji.

Thursday, 15 June 2017

Right now, at this moment, the state of Odisha is celebrating the monsoons with a festival that is very unique to it.
It is celebrating Raja, the festival of Mother Earth turning fertile and ready for the sowing season. Primarily an agricultural state, Odisha has this festival celebrated with much enthusiasm at homes where every unmarried girl and married woman is celebrated during this festival. It is believed that Mother Earth goes through the ritual of menstruation during this time and hence Raja is celebrated as a festival of fertility. There is a festive air all over and the four days of the Raja festival sees a lot of home cooked delicacies too.

The festival of Rajo ( pronounced as Rawjaw ), starts with one day before the actual festival. That day is called Sajabaja ... or decking up with new clothes, flowers, etc. or preparing for decking up by getting together new clothes and ornaments. All agricultural work is stopped from the first day of Rajaw or Pahili rajaw till the fourth day. Women dress up, cook, eat and share numerous delicacies like Podo pitha and other kinds of pitha, rich curries of mutton and chicken, and all kinds of sweets and payesh too.
Swings are a must ... every home and backyard will have a swing set up, either on the branch of a strong tree ... usually the mango or jamun or a neem ... and girls swing on it for fun.
This resembles the Teej festival of Rajasthan, that celebrates monsoon too.

While my heart yearns for those beautiful days of summer vacation spent at my maternal Dadu's house in Cuttack, I set to create as many Odiya dishes as possible in my kitchen ... in celebration of those days and their memories. Since my mother and her siblings were a big lot in number, the huge house would fall short when it came to accomodating all of them when they visited with their families.
So many would spill over to Boro Masi's place .
But would get together as soon as the day started and we kids, more than 15 in numbers, would spend the days with numerous adventures and mishaps, that would later stay on in the family as anecdotes to be recalled during get togethers.

I remember choto Mama would set up a swing for us in one of the branches of the huge ... and when I say huge it means HUGE ... Neem trees on the bank of our pond.
The pond had a cemented border and steps on four sides, complete with cement chairs for people to sit on and enjoy the cool breeze in the summer evenings when there would be no electricity power.
It was surrounded with other strong trees like the mango and the jamun too, but this particular neem stood a little behind the steps of the pond .... which gave the elders the assurance that no child will drop into the water, while swinging.

The swing itself was a broad, wooden plank with four holes drilled into it at the corners.
Thick jute ropes would then be knotted into them and tied in the most unique way ... nobody could undo them ... they were so secure.
And the swing would be set up in the highest possible, strongest branch ... which means it was a long swing. When we gained momentum and swing way high up, we would be directly above the waters of the pond. While I have never tried it, my elder cousin brothers have often jumped from that high right into the water, with a huge splash ... that would send us young ones shrieking into the water too ... but from the steps. Dadu had made sure there was a gradual slope and the it was cemented too, from the banks, so that the littlest of grandchild could step into the waters and enjoy.

The other beautiful memory that comes back to me from during those vacations is the gorging on street food. By the elder cousins to be precise .... we kids would merely be around but share the excitement, nonetheless.
Street food was a no no, as usual. But the older ones got to bribe the househelps to get us some anyway.
Secret messages would be passed along, avoiding the nosy elders, and we would all get together on the terrace of the third floor of the house .... where most elders avoided going due to the arduous climb ... and get one of the house helps to get us the forbidden street snacks.

One day it would be the singara + aloo chop, the Ghugni on the other. Or the much loved phuchka / gup chup ( as it called in Odiya) on other days.
But it was that one thing that everyone kept their ears perked up for .... that long tone of the man on the cycle, slowly pedaling through the quiet, lonely neighbourhoods on hot summer afternoons, two huge handis of aluminium hanging on both sides of his cycle, calling out "Alooooooo dummm dahi baraaaaa!". And then two long trings of his cycle bell.

N didi would be up in a flash .... tip toe out of the room, and jostle and bully any one of the house helps to wake up and send the sleepy eyed fellow to buy the lip smacking Aloo dum dahi bara.
The man would make a small bowl by folding a fresh, green shaal leaf, quickly throw in some aloo dum and some break a bara / vada from the dahi vada, add some chopped onions and green chillies. a handful of spicy mixture, some more dahi and some spicy powdered masalas. A final dash of red chillies and rock salt and he hands over the leaf.
Sometimes he would add the ghugni to it too ... but not always.

By the time it would reach us, the leaf would be leaking and the precious droplets of the spicy water would be disappearing fast (which is why we sent the boy with small boxes much later ... helped by our Didima/grandmother). We would all jump in and try to get at least a couple of spoons each.
It was heaven.
And stuff that childhood memories are made of. 😃

I made a plate for myself when I had made the Aloo dom. And sent a thought to dear N didi , who is no longer around to enjoy these sinful things that she so loved.

Perfect for a monsoon day or evening. Since it is so filling, I usually have it for lunch or dinner .... especially with friends and family. Yep ... you have to have company to enjoy this .... those close to you, those who will sniffle with you when the spice is a tad too much and those who will laugh with you thinking of long gone days.

Monday, 12 June 2017

I have often noticed on social media that every time the Bhaja is mentioned, it attracts a lot of shocked 'whoah!'s or a very predictable reaction to the 'oil' used to make it.
At first, I used to wonder why.
I mean, what has the bhaja to do with a lot of oil, quite did not make sense to me then.
And then I slowly realised that most of the people who reacted this way are non Bengalis and the actual meaning of the 'Bhaja' is lost in translation.

It made me think of what Devdutt Pattanaik had said in one of his programs on the tv ... how the intricate details of our culture and ancient writings could not be explained or named by the English with their limited words .... hence they categorised everything under one word - 'mythology'.
The same way, non Bengalis have no idea of the word 'Chanka' and categorise eveything under the name 'fry' ... the straight literal translation of the bhaja.

Except for the brinjal / Begun / aubergine, every other vegetable that is called a bhaja or fry is stir fried.
And that is possible with a very limited amount of oil too.
And nowadays, it can be almost oil free too ... thanks to non stick cookware.
I, however, do not use non stick cookware at all and stick to the good iron kadahis ... which are excellent to stir fry in, with very little oil, once they are seasoned well.

The brinjal / Begun is deep fried because it has a tendency to soak up oil. So when deep fried, it can be drained well and does not hold back the oil.
Similarly, the Luchi, every Bengali's favourite, is deep fried, while the Porota is not.
So we say "Luchi chanka hocche " and "Porota bhajahocche".

And every Bengali will have at least two or three vegetables bhaja on their plate for lunch or dinner. Or for the jolkhabar / breakfast or along with in-between meals too.
And no, they are not soaked with oil and neither are they unhealthy too.

So go ahead and enjoy that bhaja. They are a great way to get some veggies into you.
Are quick to make and the lightest of way to enjoy vegetables.

I had clicked these snaps so thought of making a quick post on this.And also share a good news - just saw this morning that Kitchen-e-Kichu Khonn has been listed among the top 100 food blogs on the planet by Feedspot.
And I get a badge too , to display on the blog! 😊
You can check it out on the right column.

So could not wait to hurry over and thank all of you for your love and encouragement and comments and interactions ... all of which give me that push to keep blogging and posting.
Makes all the efforts of cooking, clicking, cleaning up, making the time to sit down and write to you here .... very very worthwhile.
I am so glad to be able to share this blog and little parts of my life with you !!

Saturday, 10 June 2017

Hi all!!
I was planning to make an elaborate post that would include what I had made my earlier post on .... let's see if you can guess correctly ... (people who have seen my page on fb are not allowed to take part in this :-) )
.... but unfortunately my plans have gone haywire.
All thanks to a glass of water that I spilled on the kitchen floor.
And before I could mop it up ... or say 'bazooka!' ... to quote Sheldon, I was on the floor , on my back, spreadeagled, with a twisted ankle and wrist.

Later, as the day progressed, I could feel the pain spread to points and muscles and all over the right leg and ankle and the left hand, especially the wrist ... that took the brunt of the thud.
And my already weak back and right shoulder.
And with that went my plans of writing a lengthy post.

So I will leave you today with these photographs of the Tomato Khejur er chatni that I had made a few months ago.If you need the recipe, it is here. Just substitute the sugar with gur / jaggery.

Take care all ....
while I go lie down, watch the drizzle outside and ponder on the line ... "Paa pichle aloor dom .... "

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Aloo dum, Dum alu, Alur dum .... different names for different kinds.
The only common factor is the aloo / potato. Otherwise, there is absolutely no similarity in any of them.

I had been craving Odisha's Aloo dom for a long while. These days, it is almost next to impossible to get hold of it .... not even on my visits home.
And no matter how much ever I tried, I just could not get it right .... whenever I have tried to make it by myself.
It always lacked that special flavour; that something that goes 'zing!' inside your head and your heart sings either 'yes!!' or 'home!'.
I have never eaten it at home ... our cook never made it.
I had tasted it only at my Odiya friends' houses or eaten it as a chaat / street food.
So,whenever I thought of it, I would get that twist in my heart ... almost leading me to sadness.
And yes, I had often wallowed in the self induced morbidity that I might die before I got to taste my favourite Odiya Aloo dom, ever again.

But somebody up there yonder pulled some strings, I believe. And I got to make this authentic way of the Odiya Aloo dom; finally.
This wonderful lady from a group answered my question for the authentic Odiya Aloo dom, mentioning that it has been Aloo tarkari / curry all the while and has no idea when it started to be called the Aloo dom.
I got some baby potatoes the very next day and made this Aloo dom, which is often served as a street food in Odisha ... served with a dash of this and that spice, chopped onions and other condiments. Quickly tossed and plated out in a small bowl made of a leaf of a local tree ... the shaal tree.
This is eaten with luchis, parathas or puris too, and usually for breakfast or dinner.

I had in mind to pair it with something else too ... post coming up soon.

I leave you with this today.
Will be quiet for a while now.
Too depressed with the rampant plagiarism all over ... especially idea plagiarism.
Makes me want to stop blogging or sharing recipes or tips altogether.

Tuesday, 30 May 2017

No, I did not speak all too soon.
The weather has indeed taken a turn and for the good too.
While the temperatures have continued to dip, the breeze has been steady and is only growing stronger.
I had a bout of sneezing and sniffling yesterday, a result of my carelessness ... I had the window open, the fan on and the ac on too ... yeah, kill me for that ... one of these days, and was punished accordingly.
And promptly too.
The whole of yesterday was spent at trying to sneeze with the lowest possible noise ... yet the more the day wore on, the more the volume increased.
Not to mention my groans.
Cold and flu make me cranky. And if there is someone, anyone, in the vicinity, I become very restless.
Tried to lie down and watch the telly but to no good. The choicest of idiotic movies were on. Listening to music was another pain ... my sneezes would not allow me to listen in peace.
Spent a whole miserable morning before I gulped an antihistamine.
That took care of me and I was in dreamland for the rest of the afternoon and the better part of the evening.
B made a hot dinner of Aloo baingan ki sabzi , with a little gravy to help my sore throat, along with plain parathas.
And then I slept again.

Woke up early to a dark, cloudy sky and rain.
That quiet, silent but non stop drizzle that Pune is so loved for.
Looked out and saw the droplets dripping down the leaves and the railings of my balcony.
Snuggled back into the razai again.
But sleep eluded and thoughts turned to breakfast.
And what would a good Bong have for breakfast on a beautiful, rainy morning?
Luchi!, of course.
So while B took his morning call, I quickly set the shaada aloor chorchori on one burner and kneaded the maida.
Soon we were sitting at the table, looking out of the windows and watching the trees sway, enjoying our breakfast of luchi torkari.
I did post a photo of my plate on the blog's page on facebook.
There is a video too, on my personal page.
Someday I will do a post on how to make that perfect phulko luchi, for sure.

But today, while I am still drowsy ... thanks to Avil, I thought I will give my weekly grocery shopping a miss and just watch the clouds.
And make this post.

I had made this Chana pulao just last week. It was a hurried day and I had some leftover rice as well as boiled chickpeas in the fridge.
Decided to throw in them together and come up with a one pot meal.
A plain raita and some salad on the side and a quick lunch was ready within 15 minutes.

Now add the green chillies + the boiled and drained chickpeas (make sure you do not add any water ), haldi powder, red chilli powder and garam masala powder, amchur powder, salt and sugar.

Mix everything well and fry for a while.

Now add the rice and adjust salt.

Add a little more garam masala ( or a pinch of biryani masala will also work fine. I used the Punjabi garam masala that I got from Amritsar ) and mix well.

Add ghee and lemon juice, give a good mix and cover.

Let it stand for around 2 minutes before you switch off heat.

Serve hot with raita and salad on the side.

The raita is just fresh home made curd beaten well with a pinch of black salt and sprinkled with roasted jeera/cumin powder + red chilli powder.

This turns out to be a wonderful one pot meal, especially if you have dryish leftover rice.
Mine was slightly mushy as my rice was a little well cooked.
No change in the flavours though.
And
personally I feel well cooked rice soaks up flavours better than just
done rice, especially for pulaos like this .... won't work with a biryani though.

Friday, 26 May 2017

Nothing much is happening in life right now.
Cooking is light and less and all that I have been doing is drowning in cooling drinks.
The Watermelon juice ( yes, I love it now ) has a permanent place in my fridge these days, as is the chaas or the lightly spiced buttermilk.
I am downing glasses of these and more .... that is when I am not drinking gallons of water.
Pune does not get any rains in summers ... other than a couple of very short and very rare showers ... and we are looking forward to the monsoons.
I have not made any boris or used the sun in any way this time ... not even a jar of pickle.
Been too caught up with some sewing.
And my travels have taken up the larger part of summer this year.

But, since the last few days, the sun has suddenly turned softer. There is a lightness in the air.
The mornings are fresh and much cooler than what they were just a week
back.
We are back to our routine of early morning tea on our balcony.
The birds still come for their drink of water and later in the day, their bath.
But the sun is not as burning any more.
I
hope I am not speaking a little too soon, since we still have the rest
of May and the whole of June. But I am enjoying Pune getting back to its
cool self.

I have cooked with summer vegetables very rarely too, this time.
Something or the other has been coming up and regular green grocery shopping has been taking a backseat.
I did get some good Potol / Parwal / Pointed gourd twice in the last three weeks. And did cook them in all my regular ways ... mostly the bhaja.
I love potol bhaja with hot rotis or on the side of dal and rice.
But this time, I did make a couple more different recipes ... which I will be posting soon.

This Potol posto was made last year. I had clicked these photos in a hurry ... and was not too happy with them .... so kept postponing making a post the whole of last year.
Came across them when looking for some old photos and decided they are not so bad, after all. I mean, anything to not go through the rigmarole of cooking, arranging and clicking a photograph ... not to mention my shoulder acting up later.

So here is the way I made Potol posto. Try it before the summer runs out.
And the Potol disappears from the markets.

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Yes, 9 whole years.
Albeit with a few breaks.
But 9 years, still.
And this is what I wrote on my wall on facebook -
"Food blogging is just as much hard work as it is fun. Cooking whole meals for just one post to rearranging an already set table for just one photo.
Rushing to keep up with the sun for some natural light to waiting with
bated breath for the reactions to your food, photos and recipe. Asking hungry family and friends to hold that spoon as you catch a click. Ignoring illnesses and bad days to complete that pending post. Or to reply to a reader's query on mail.
Sitting up nights after a full day's chores to complete writing down
the lines that have been playing in your mind the whole day. Getting to know wonderful people who are now more than just blogger friends ... they are real friends now. Thanking you all, as I complete 9 years of food blogging, for being a part of my journey with Kichu Khonn. Love you all! "

Yes, this roller coaster of a journey would not have been possible without all of you and your support and love.
So, a sincere "Thank you!" from the bottom of my heart.

I have with me today the photo of our very tradional Paanta bhaat or the Pakhala, as it is known in Odisha. I had posted this photo as a part of the Pakhala theme in one of the most traditional food oriented groups on facebook.
And had recieved an overwhelming response.
After which I shared it on my page for this blog on facebook too.
And was so happy to see that many still prefer our traditional and old ways of food and eating.
Many came out to say that while they absolutely love this, sadly, the paanto bhaat is slowly losing its popularity.
( You can read as well as write in your views on the Paanta bhaat too, here. )

Not so in Odisha ... that much I can say with conviction. While
the Paanta bhaat or the Pakhalo is a very regular and common meal in
rural Bengal and Odisha, come summer and its popularity doubles in many
households, including urban ones. Traditionally, it is rice and
water, left overnight (or more) to ferment slightly, and is eaten with a
number of side dishes that depend upon the socio economic conditions. Once upon a time, doctors used to advice rural
people to just eat panta bhaat with a little saag / leafy vegetable ...
that is enough to fulfill the vitamin, especially B12, as well as
required carb for a person. While people in rural Bengal and Odisha
eat it with saag, a little fish, potatoes, onions or whatever
vegetables are available, people in cities have glamorised it with a
side of dishes made with posto and sometimes the very rare Ilish maach bhaja too. Extremely cooling, the much loved panto bhaat is now a part of many restaurants too.

The perfect pairing to the pakhala will be all kinds of bhajas ( of both vegetables as well as fish ) and makhas or bhartas.

Friday, 19 May 2017

I was engrossed in the vegetables section of the supermarket, leaning over to reach the farthest corner of the over the plastic basket that held the Okras / Bhindis / Dharosh, when I felt someone come and stand very close to me. While it did irritate me a little ... I hate it when strangers stand too close to me, and that happens all the while, especially in queues, I did not have the time to look up.
I needed to pick up my weekly vegetables real quick and rush to meet B, who was waiting for me at the corner for a midweek lunch date at a newly opened Rajasthani food joint.
But the presence continued to bristle me and I finally gave in.
Riled, I looked up to give a big frown, only to see a very young face gaping at my hands working at picking the okras.
The girl was very young, possibly still in college. Seeing me look up, she broke into a smile and asked "Why are you breaking them?"
I couldn't help smiling.
And showed her how to select good bhindis.

And decided to include it in my post on Bhindi / Dharosh too.
I have been trying to click photos for all the dishes with bhindi that I cook and have come to the conclusion that they are one of the most difficult things to photograph, especially the dharosh bhaja. Unless I deluge the set with a number of props and some light and shadow play, etc. etc.
And since I don't have the time or patience for either, I decided to post them as they are.

But first, how to buy good bhindi.
Pick up a bhindi / okra, preferably small in size, and break the tip of its tail.
If it breaks with a snap, it is fresh. If it does not break immediately, discard it.
It is old and will be chewy.
Always buy the medium to small sized bhindis. They are the freshest ... though do put them through the snap test too.

Prepping for this vegetable requires only one thing .... the Bhindi must be completely dry.
That is, unless you are planning to use it in a dish with gravy like the Kadhi, or the ambol or the jhaal.
The
best way to deal with it is to chop it and keep it on the fridge for a
night or day, preferably without cover or loosely covered.
And not too tightly packed too.
Spreading them on a plate works for me well.
This way ensures much of its slime dries up and results in a better, dryish dish after cooking.

I cook with bhindis very regularly. While my favourite is the stir fry / bhaja , this is one way that is great as a side with rotis.
Slightly moist and a little spicy with the masalas, that the usual bhaja does not have, this version of the Bhindi ki sabzi is very common at my in laws' place.
I love it with parathas too.

Saturday, 13 May 2017

After a long, torturous start to summer and the never ending days of unbearable hot days and nights, it rained last evening. And this evening too.
In fact, it rained a lot more this evening. And how!
It poured and poured and poured.
There were flashes of lightening ever since the clouds had started to gather by late afternoon. All went still and not a leaf moved. The heat was suffocating and we could hardly breathe in the thick, humid air.
Then started the wind.
Whole trees swayed from side to side and we could see leaves and fresh cotton balls, from the trees, flying hither and thither.
Thunder rolled in the heavens along with every crack of lightening.
And then came the first drops .... big, fat and heavy, falling with little thuds. Gradually the tempo increased and soon we could not see anything through the screen of rain.
And there was a power failure promptly.

The road below was a sight to see, though.
As the heavy rain splattered on it, we could see the steam rising and create a haze that was so beautiful that we stood at the window and watched mersmerised ... every time a car passed, its headlights lit up the scene.
Later, we ignored the inverter and did not switch on the lights either.
Rather, soaked in the dark and quiet all around.
I am not much of a crowd person and the recent trip to the desert land and the extended family has exhausted me completely.
So I am very much at peace right now in my cosy little 1500 sq. ft. flat. It might not be a haveli, but it is my nest. This is where I play house, dress it up, make its curtains, play around in the kitchen and sit back in my favourite chair or my swing and happily watch the world go by.
Here, I am the queen.

We had dinner in the dark; the old fashioned way.
And sat out in the balcony later, taking turns on the swing, soaking in the beautiful cold. The rain had stopped finally but the thunder still growled in the distant hills.
We chomped on cold watermelon pieces, spitting out the seeds carelessly. It was very quiet all around. And dark; still.
Crickets sang in the small patch of forest beyond our balcony. And the dry leaves that covered the ground below the huge trees, all soaked in the rain, let out a beautiful, earthy, soggy fragrance that hung heavy in the air.
We sat quietly; not speaking lest the spell gets broken; lest the street lights come back to their sharp life, searing the eyes and the beautiful all around.

I felt relaxed, in a long while.
And at peace.
"Time to get back to my favourite space, my Kichu Khonn", I told myself.

After a long bout of vegetarian food, I am back to my non vegetarian diet. No fish in the fridge yet ... gotta buy some tomorrow ... but egg and chicken, yes.
Coming here, I saw this post in the draft and so, my friends, I have this beautiful, spicy, crunchy fish fry for you.
Quick to make, quick to finish off too, you can pair this with the simple dal bhaat or the panto bhaat or much on it as an appetizer.
Small fish are high in protein, omega 3 as well as calcium. So try to make them a part of your meal at least two or three times a week.

I had got a batch of absolutely fresh Mourala the last time I got my fish. My fishmonger cleans them for me, which I am grateful for, since I have no idea how to handle them. And it would take me ages, of course.
All I did was to wash it clean ... you have to scrub real clean ... mix with the spices, fry and much on them.

Thursday, 13 April 2017

All my life I have heard that Kathal or the raw Jackfruit is the vegetarian equivalent of meat. Probably due to its resemblance as well as its iron and fibre content.
And so has to be cooked like meat .... complete with onions and ginger and garlic paste and smothered with garam masalas, a dash of curd, etc. etc.
Now .... I have not had a great relationship with the raw jackfruit. Ever.
Not as an adult. Never as a child.
While I loved, and still do, the ripe jackfruit and can never fathom why many people in my home wrinkled their noses at its smell, I never gave a thought, leave alone a second look to any kathal dish on the table.
If I had to eat meat, I always had chicken or mutton. Why on earth would people cook a vegetable with a huge fuss, just pretending it to be meat or like meat ... I could never understand.
Thus was the story till I got married.

At the time, raw jackfruit was either not readily available in Pune or I did not know the right places to look it for. And I had no reason to do so too.
But it turned out that the husband loves jackfruit curry. Which obviously led me to asking around for places where I could find it.
I do not remember exactly where I found it finally and when. Maybe in the Mandai.
All I remember is the piece that I got looked very limp, yellow and dry.

Came back home and started to prep it ... which turned into something
hugely disastrous. After 1 full hour and half a bottle of mustard oil
smeared all over my hands and fingers, which still stuck to each other
in that sticky white glue, a little knife all smeared with oil and glue that barely scratched the kathal, I was almost in tears.
And gave up.

Trying washing my hands was another story.
Finally I called Didi. She patiently explained how to go about the whole thing.
But all I was interested in was to get my hands and fingers clean.
And promised myself that I will never touch the darned thing again.

But that was not to be.
I did venture into dealing with it again. And learnt slowly.
Now, I know how to handle and cut a raw jackfruit without any hassles.
I ask the green grocer to peel it and cut it into big chunks .... maybe two or three chunks for half a kilo of kathal.
All I do is wash them under running water and cook it with some salt and turmeric powder, in the pressure cooker, for two whistles on medium heat.
And then, cutting it is a breeze.

Earlier, following hearsay, I have tried cooking the kathal just like meat is cooked. Lots of ginger garlic paste, onion, garam masalas, etc. etc.
But, very truthfully, have never quite enjoyed it.
B would eat it happily, but only once or twice. Not more than that.

This time, I decided to go by my instincts.
Had boiled and frozen a good kathal, but could not decide on a recipe.
Finally, I decided to try a light version. The hot weather played its part too.
And it was a vegetarian day for me ... so I wanted something that I too will eat without much ado ... thus saving me for making something for myself.

And settled on this recipe .... something that will have a hint of garam masala flavours but not very rich with garlic or onions.

I wanted a thin, light gravy that will allow the taste of the raw jackfruit to come through.

And what I got in the end is a very well flavoured light gravy with the kathal flavours shining through. I had added boiled potatoes, since the kathal was already cooked, and they soaked up the flavours of the gravy beautifully.

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About Me

Juggles with software, knitting, reading, cooking, classical music,writing and home decor.
Loves Enid Blyton and Rabindranath with equal passion.
Roams the country when life seems a wee little overwhelming.
And when at peace too.
Loves everything traditional and cooks with the minimal of ingredients and time.
Holds on to sun rays and moon beams with equal fervour.